


Pas de deux

by theglitterati



Series: Bokuaka Fantasy AU [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji in a Skirt, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Crossdressing, Dancing, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 14:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30107688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/pseuds/theglitterati
Summary: Keiji sneaks into the castle again for Koutarou's birthday ball, this time in disguise.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: Bokuaka Fantasy AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2215458
Comments: 5
Kudos: 79





	Pas de deux

The King raised his glass. “Let’s have a toast to my son. On this, his nineteenth birthday, I wish him health, prosperity, and good fortune in finding a bride! Perhaps one of you lovely, masked ladies here tonight will be the one…” He winked, letting the girls in the crowd titter; letting their fathers dream of royal matches. “To the prince!”

“To the prince!” The hall erupted into cheers. Koutarou bowed politely, accepting their applause and hiding his grimace. When he straightened, his father stood before him.

“Enjoy your party, Koutarou.” It sounded like an order. His hand came down on Koutarou’s shoulder, hard. “But not too much. And do remember that  _ you’re _ supposed to lead when you dance with a woman, hmm?” He stepped down, leaving Koutarou frozen on the dais. 

It was the first thing his father had said to him in weeks.

“My Lord?” A gentle voice floated over the music, stirring him. “Would you care to dance?”

Koutarou was relieved to find the voice belonged to Lady Suzumeda, the daughter of a prominent Duke. Of all the women at court, she was his favourite, for they had something important in common: hating their families. Koutarou accepted her hand and escorted her to the ballroom floor.

They slipped seamlessly into the quickstep, one of Koutarou’s hands in hers, the other held at her tiny waist. “You’ve asked me for the first dance of the night,” Koutarou said. “Does that mean you’re the favourite to be my bride this week?”

“It would seem so. My mother actually sent my maids away and dressed me herself. She claimed it would help me impress you.”

“You do look very beautiful tonight,” Koutarou told her. Though he was not attracted to her — which she seemed to know, though he’d never told her outright — anyone would be charmed by Lady Kaori’s beauty. She wore a long, satin gown to match her long, satin hair, and though it was currently hidden by a pink and green mask of gilded butterfly wings, she had a lovely, straight nose covered in delicate freckles.

“Thank you, my Lord. I am sure you are as handsome as ever behind those feathers.” Koutarou’s own mask was styled after an owl, with feathers of black and white to complement his formal dress.

He flushed. “You’re too kind, Kaori-chan.”

“Not at all.” Her eyes softened. “I only wish that you could enjoy a dance with someone you care for tonight.”

Koutarou spun her in a tight circle as the dance reached its finale. “Now, now. Don’t pity me too much. It is my birthday, after all.”

“No pity; only the kindness of a friend.” They finished the dance with her hand on his cheek; she tugged at his frown. “Now, put on a smile and try to endure, my dear.” With that, she was gone, her hair swishing to and fro as she looked for a new lordling to dazzle.

As quick as she’d disappeared, another girl took her place, one Koutarou didn’t recognize. “May I have this dance, my Prince?”

Koutarou smiled his charming, royal smile. He had plenty of practice with endurance. “Of course, my Lady.”

*

Several partners later, Koutarou extracted himself from the dance floor for a drink, only to be waylaid by a couple of cats. The taller one dipped into a bow so low it was insulting. Even behind his feline false-face, there was no hiding that hair: this was Prince Kuroo of Nekoma. He hugged Koutarou tightly. “Happy birthday, sweet prince!”

Koutarou patted his back. “Are you enjoying partying on my kingdom’s dime?” Kuroo held a crystal glass of something bubbly and expensive. “I hear Nekoma parties aren’t half this lavish.”

“Which is why our coffers are so much fuller.” This from Kozume, the tiny mage Kuroo dragged everywhere with him like a child with a special toy. Though his mask was the same as Kuroo’s, his catlike eyes gave him an inhuman appearance.

“And our weapons so much deadlier,” Kuroo finished, canines glinting.

“Is that why your spies keep trying to sneak into our armoury?” Fukuroudani was technically at peace with Nekoma, though you wouldn’t know it from the mutual espionage that went on. Thankfully Fukuroudani’s spies were better at not getting caught.

“It’s always good to keep your allies on their toes,” Kuroo said evasively. “Anyway, must we speak of this? This is a party! I’ve a present for you that might cheer you up.” He motioned to Kozume, who withdrew a package from his robes.

Koutarou opened it slowly. Inside sat a small figurine in the shape of an owl, the animal on Fukuroudani’s crest. Its body was solid gold, but its eyes were rubies, Nekoma red.

“An olive branch,” Kuroo explained. “An apology, from my father to yours, which I am hopeful you will pass on.” He took a sip of his drink. “You know, for the spying and whatnot.”

Koutarou did not wish to know what Nekoma had to apologize for beyond their spies. He studied Kuroo’s eyes; there was uncertainty there. Koutarou considered himself a good judge of character, but Kuroo was elusive, always switching sides. 

He was also an old friend. “I will pass it on your message,” he said. “Via one of my sisters, so my father actually listens.”

Kuroo bowed, respectfully this time. “Much obliged. And now I shall give you a gift you’ll enjoy much more than that trinket.” He lowered his voice. “I spotted a familiar face in the crowd tonight.”

Koutarou frowned. “Familiar?”

“A mutual friend of ours. Someone I haven’t seen in a few years.”

Sweat pooled at the back of Koutarou’s neck. “Kuroo, what are you saying?”

“Simply that you will want to keep your eyes open this evening—”

“Kuro,” Kozume said. “Quit toying with him.”

“Oh, alright. If you’ll both excuse me, I believe I saw a waiter with more of this.” He shook his empty glass. “I shall drain Fukuroudani’s accounts as much as possible while I’m here.” He stomped off on long legs, snapping his fingers.

Kozume, left behind, regarded Koutarou unblinkingly. “You should dance,” he told him. “If you go looking, you may never find what you seek.” He set off after Kuroo, robes floating behind him.

Left alone, Koutarou had the feeling of being watched. He looked around, but saw nothing and no one out of the ordinary. Who had Kuroo seen? His maddening clues pointed to one specific person, but surely it couldn’t be— not here, not tonight. Koutarou would not get his hopes up.

Unbalanced by Kozume’s riddles and Kuroo’s barbs, he finally went to the bar for his drink, requesting two fingers of brandy and water to wash it down. Still no one approached him. With nothing left to do, he returned to the dance floor, chose a suitress at random, and soared across the room with her.

The band led the dancers through the mazurka and polonaise, Koutarou switching ladies at the end of each song. He made it through the quadrille, with its long row of pairs, and settled into a Viennese waltz. He barely registered the face of his new partner, only felt her fingers sliding into his.

Long, dexterous fingers and a hand that eclipsed his, a scar across the back of it.

Koutarou sucked in a breath. He knew this hand.

“Keep quiet,” Keiji said. “Don’t attract attention.”

Koutarou stared at him, his mouth fallen open. The love of his life stood before him, disguised as a lady in a golden mask that shone almost as bright as his eyes.

“Koutarou, we’re meant to be dancing.”

“Right.” Koutarou shook his head. He began the steps, letting muscle memory lead them; his head was spinning much too fast to do so. “Keiji, you’re— you came!”

Keiji smiled. His lips were painted a deep red. “I wouldn’t have missed your birthday, my darling.”

Koutarou felt like his heart might explode. It had been five months since the night he found Keiji waiting in his bedchamber, and though he was glad to have seen him, the agony of knowing he would come again but never when or where was nearly as bad as missing him for two years had been. “Keiji, I must—” He pulled him closer. “Let me hold you—”

“Later.” Keiji stepped away, though not as far as he’d been before. “Not where your father or his spare sets of eyes might see. For now, just dance with me and tell me I look lovely in my dress.”

“You look lovely in your dress,” Koutarou repeated. He let his eyes rove down Keiji’s body, taking in his disguise. His hair, wild and wavy the last time he’d visited, had been tamed and pinned at the back of his neck. His dress was simple yet elegant: golden to match his mask, lightly embellished. His figure marked a feminine silhouette; Koutarou suspected he wore stays underneath his gown.

“Thank you. I could probably have snuck in in my usual attire, but… well, I did wish to have a dance with you.”

“Now who’s the sentimental fool.” The letter Keiji had left him the last time they were together was tucked inside his jacket, next to his heart. “Might I get to see what’s beneath this camouflage later?”

“If you behave now and don’t get us caught. My disguise won’t stand up to scrutiny — I believe I’ve already been spotted by Prince Kuroo.” Keiji frowned. “You groping my ass won’t stand up to scrutiny, either.”

“I’m not sorry at all,” Koutarou said, though he did raise his hand back to Keiji’s waist.

“I’m going back into hiding after this,” Keiji continued. “If you dance with the same woman twice, your father may get suspicious. I do not wish him to see me here.” Koutarou glanced around. His father was across the hall, deep in conversation with some royal so-and-so. “Konoha-san will escort me to your rooms when the path is clear.”

“Or I could escort you there right now.”

“You must stay until the party ends or we could be caught. Promise me, Koutarou.”

“But Keiji—”

“Promise me, or I’ll not give you your present.”

“Fine,” Koutarou whined. Prince or not, Keiji always won their arguments. The song was winding down; Koutarou wanted to cling to Keiji and never let go.

“Good. Now be a good prince and dance with the pretty ladies,” Keiji said. He leaned in, breath dusting Koutarou’s ear. “But don’t forget who will be warming your bed tonight.”

With a whirl of his skirts, he disappeared into the crowd.

*

It was hours before Koutarou could escape the party. Aside from the women who wanted to dance with him, which had to be every noble lady under twenty-five on the continent, there were other delays; distant relatives who wanted to bask in his royal glow, courtiers from nearby kingdoms who wanted to talk politics over the punch bowl. A drunk Kuroo (and an exasperated Kozume) insisting that Koutarou have an archery contest with him immediately no matter how many times Koutarou told him it would be better to do so in daylight. It was well past midnight when Koutarou extracted himself from his remaining gusts and climbed the stairs to his room.

He left his guard outside and kicked the door shut. The room appeared empty at first glance, but Koutarou heard the rustling of fabric behind him.

“It’s not yet that late,” Keiji chided. He’d taken his mask off and let his hair down, but he was still in full dress. “You could have stayed longer—”

Koutarou grabbed him by the waist, knocking him off balance. “No, I really couldn’t have. You underestimate your appeal, my love.” He tore his own mask off and kissed Keiji roughly on his painted lips.

The intoxication of their kiss was as strong as the first time: years ago, deep in the forest, playing at being lovers before they knew what the word meant. Koutarou wondered if he’d have gotten used to this by now if Keiji had not been sent away. He doubted it. 

Desperate for more, he broke the kiss and spun Keiji around, his ass pressing against Koutarou’s groin. Holding him still with one hand, Koutarou let the other roam, over Keiji’s shoulders and collarbones and down to where his tits would be if he had any to fill out the gown, then lower, between his legs, grabbing him through his skirts. 

“Now there’s a lucky find.” Koutarou squeezed his hardening cock, making Keiji gasp. He leaned back against Koutarou’s shoulder, dragging him down into a filthy kiss. “I hope you will forgive my impatience tonight,” Koutarou said, as he lifted Keiji’s skirts, “but you did tease me earlier—”

Keiji looked up at him with sharp eyes. “Then why don’t you quit blabbering and fuck me already?”

Koutarou met his challenging glare. He wanted to devour him.

“Ask and you shall receive.” In one quick motion, he pushed Keiji down onto the bed and flipped his skirts up, exposing him.

“Gods, Keiji.” His shoes had been discarded; he wore thigh-length stockings held up with tied garters and nothing else. His ass was bare, legs spread just enough to give Koutarou a lovely view of his pert little hole. “You look…”

“I wasn’t actually sure what women wear under these things,” Keiji said. “I went with what I thought would make you happiest.”

“You chose brilliantly.” Koutarou dropped to his knees, trailing fingers from the hems of Keiji’s stockings up to his waist. He smacked his ass, his hand landing with a hard clap. “Unfortunately, though, this will delay my ravishing you.”

Keiji’s head spun around. “Why?”

“Because I’ve just made other plans.” With grasping fingers, he spread Keiji’s cheeks and buried his face between them.

“K-Koutarou!” Keiji’s voice jumped an octave. “We’ve— we haven’t—” He was rendered incapable of words by Koutarou licking him, but Koutarou understood. They had never done this before, though Koutarou had spent many nights dreaming of it. He only got so many chances to try new things with Keiji; he had to take advantage when he could.

Keiji didn’t seem to mind. He muffled his scream with a pillow when Koutarou pushed his tongue inside him, wrapping a hand around him to lightly tug at his cock. He didn’t want to send him over the edge yet, but he wanted him as close as possible.

When his knees began to shake, Koutarou drew back, retrieving a bottle of lubricant. He oiled them both up, smearing some on Keiji’s cock as well to tease him. “Are you ready for me, my love?”

“I’ve been ready for hours,” Keiji whined. “Don’t hold back, darling.”

Koutarou had never denied Keiji anything he wanted.

He sheathed himself inside him in one thrust, giving him only a moment to rest before picking up the pace. He fucked him hard and fast, their hips snapping together, Keiji’s back arching. Koutarou leaned down over him and held him by the hair, dragging his head back. It was easier than it used to be with Keiji’s longer hair, and the groan it elicited from his lips was lovely.

Keiji was tight around him, exquisitely wet and warm. Koutarou didn’t want to stop, but he could already feel his orgasm cresting. He tightened his fingers in Keiji’s hair and slammed into him, finishing deep inside him. Keiji clenched, moaning as Koutarou filled him with his wet heat.

It was some time before Koutarou regained his faculties. He slipped out of Keiji, watching as his come followed, dripping down Keiji’s legs.

“Koutarou.” Keiji’s voice was wrecked. “My stockings—”

“Right.” Koutarou knelt and untied the garters, letting his hose fall to the floor.

He continued stripping him, though he met some difficulty getting him out of his stays. “Who laced you into this, anyway?”

“Konoha-san and I tried to do it ourselves, but we ended up calling Shirofuku-san from the kitchen to help.”

Koutarou undid the laces one by one. “Does it hurt?” It was certainly a tight fit.

“It’s surprisingly comfortable. The skirts are heavy, though, and the whole thing takes too long.”

Koutarou agreed. It was ten minutes before he had Keiji out of his gown, skirts, and shift. He lay nude on the bed before him, nothing left of his disguise but his lipstick. There was a stain on the pillowcase where Keiji had used it to gag himself. Koutarou would give the cleaners special instructions never to wash it.

He made obeisance between Keiji’s legs and finished him off with his mouth, swallowing everything Keiji gave him. They were both sweat-sheened when Koutarou collapsed beside him, breathing heavily. He leaned in for a kiss, but Keiji stopped him. “You need to clean that mouth of yours first.”

A glass of red wine for each of them, enjoyed naked in bed, fulfilled that purpose. Koutarou wrapped Keiji in blankets and held him close, running his hands idly through his hair.

“Oh, I nearly forgot.” Keiji opened a drawer in the bedside table and withdrew a box Koutarou had never seen. He must have hidden it there earlier. “Your present, darling.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything. Seeing you is the best gift anyone could give me.”

“That’s sweet,” Keiji said, “and absurd. I was hardly going to sneak into your party and not bring a gift. Open it.”

Koutarou lifted the lid from the box. Inside was a locket on a heavy gold chain, its ovaline surface slightly tarnished.

“I am sorry it’s not new, but I believe your jeweller may be able to fix it. I couldn’t afford—”

Koutarou took Keiji’s face in his hands. “It’s beautiful.”

“Look inside.” Keiji flushed, deeper than he had when Koutarou fucked him. Koutarou popped it open and found a curled lock of black hair tied with a ribbon. “It’s mine,” Keiji explained. “It’s a bit silly, but I wanted you to have a piece of me here with you, since I cannot always be by your side.”

“It’s not silly at all.” Nor was the ache in Koutarou’s heart. He hugged Keiji tightly, tears blurring his eyesight. “It’s perfect. It will never leave my body. I only wish I had something of mine to give to you.”

“It’s alright.” Keiji’s voice was thick. “You are always with me, my darling.”

Koutarou took a deep breath through his nose. He would not cry now, not when he still had hours to with Keiji ahead of him.

“Did you know,” he said, changing the subject as Keiji surreptitiously wiped his face, “that this is not the only golden gift I received tonight?”

“It’s not?”

“Yours is my favourite, of course,” Koutarou assured him. He leaned over to dig around in the pocket of his coat, discarded on the floor. “Here it is.” He showed Keiji the golden owl. “Prince Kuroo gifted me this. He said it was a peace offering from his father, for the spies we caught. I’m not sure that’s going to work, given that—”

“Koutarou, say no more.” Keiji seized the owl and stuffed it under the covers. “Kuroo gave you this?” His voice was but a whisper.

“Yes. Well, actually, Kozume—”

“Kozume,” Keiji hissed.

“Keiji, what are you—”

Keiji silenced him with a hand over his mouth.  _ Look, _ he mouthed.

He retrieved the owl and dug his nail into the side of it, into a notch Koutarou had missed, and popped it open. There was a small drum inside, like in a music box, spinning despite the lack of a source of power. The ruby eyes of the owl glowed.

“It’s a listening device,” Keiji said, low enough that it wouldn’t hear. “I believe Prince Kuroo meant to plant it here to record your speech. Kozume has enchanted it; it is likely transmitting to them via magic right now.”

“Why— that’s—” Koutarou sputtered as quietly as he could. Damn that sneaky Prince Kuroo! Just when Koutarou thought he was one step ahead of him, he— “Wait. Does this mean they heard us earlier?”

“It would seem so.”

“Mm.” Koutarou found he didn’t mind. In fact, he had something of an idea. “Well, we’ll have to be louder this time, to make sure they can hear us clearly!”

Keiji smiled. “If that’s what you wish, my Lord. I will be sure to enunciate when I scream your name.”

The eyes of the owl flickered twice and went out.

Koutarou snorted. “Cowards.” He rolled on top of Keiji, pulling the blankets back to reveal his body. “However, I was serious. No hiding in the pillows this time. Let me hear those gorgeous moans of yours, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: kyrstin  
> Twitter: theglitterati_


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